


Winter Sound

by LaMalefix



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of demonic possessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:34:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMalefix/pseuds/LaMalefix
Summary: In the armoury they tried to convince him to accept a weapon similar to his own, but he will no longer hold an arrow in his life. That’s what he decided weeks ago, before leaving New York.His battles ended that night in that warehouse.Alec has left his life in New York, his guilt was consuming him,isconsuming him.Magnus comes to the rescue.





	Winter Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, yeah I know I have a lot, a whole lot of works I need to finish... but I couldn't write until this story was out of my damn head.  
> So here it is. Maybe it's a bit confusing because I chose some plot devices but I don't know if I've made the best of it.  
> The title is from Winter Sound a beautiful song by Of Monsters And Men, and I think it sounds good for this work.  
> Hope you like it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He believed he experienced the cold, in its literal definition, one impossible winter in New York when the thermometers outside Manhattan marked -16 ° C, on those nights when he had to go on patrols looking for demons, and it turned out that even for the demons it was too cold. A cold of the flesh, of the skin, the one that sticks strongly to the clothes and doesn’t go away even with a hot bath.

The cold that welcomed him in Idris is much worse. Idris, squeezed between the snowy peaks, an icy wind that whips along the river and splits the wood into two when it reaches the lake. He’s knees-deep in the snow and even with all the possible heat runes activated, the cold, the real one is a combination of factors. It is not only of the body, of the flesh, of the skin, but it is also in his heart.

The fire messages have stopped coming. They had begun a few days after his arrival, when his absence became clear, but he ignored them taxonomically. And even though his sister is stubborn, tenacious, and has pursued her cause, the attempt to get him back to New York, for days without interruption, she stopped after three whole weeks. The last message was two weeks ago and she asked him not to disappear like uncle Max.

Funny that Isabelle named his uncle in that last letter. Funny, because now Alec’s house was uncle Max’s stronghold for a few days before he decided to leave the Shadow World and disappear. Funny, because he too is in voluntary exile, but instead of leaving Alicante he decided to go and live there. He too has disappeared from the radar, however there is, in full view.

The house is small, beyond the Brocelind plain, immersed in the dense forest, near the mountainside. There is a small stream that passes by, which slides a few meters from the small cabin, and throws itself after a tortuous but short course in Lake Lyn. It’s good that the trees, so dense, don’t allow the snow to settle more than a dozen centimetres, and then the road, a little bit rough to get home, is not so dangerous.

The house is small, yes, and looks like a hunting cabin. A room on the ground floor with a large fireplace and a kitchenette, a bathroom and a small staircase with eight steps leading to the mezzanine where is placed a battered mattress, a little old and lumpy. Of course, it isn’t as welcoming as the apartment he left behind in New York, along with his old life, but it is certainly more welcoming than his room at the Institute.

The road to get to the forest though, is long from Alicante. It goes across the whole plain that collects the icy wind from the mountains that surround and protect Idris, and the equally cold spiral of air that comes from the lake and the river.

The daggers tinkle against his gear, while he drags behind him that kind of sled that he found in the cabin, on which he placed a bit of chopped woods and supplies for the coming days: temperatures will fall even more, better stay home. He handles his feather staff like a walking stick, to help him cross the plain. It isn’t certainly his favourite weapon, but it serves to its task. The bow remained in New York, along with his arrows and quiver and the rest of his life.

In the Armoury they tried to convince him to accept a weapon similar to his own, but he will no longer hold an arrow in his life. That’s what he decided weeks ago, before leaving New York.

His battles ended that night in that warehouse.

What he is dealing with now is bureaucracy, the daggers and the stick only serve to make a scene, to be ready, in the case the Clave will give him a sudden job.

Even before Alec wasn’t that great demon-killer. He killed his first demon right at the beginning of the Dark War, he surely can live well without killing again.

His battles ended when Magnus was bleeding out in the warehouse. It all ended at that moment.

And every time, every time he stays alone at home, in that house that belonged to his uncle and in which he lives an exile that is so similar yet completely different from Max’s, that day collapses on him every time. There are blurred memories, but there are pressing feelings on his skin, in his icy heart.

He doesn’t remember how it started, he just remembers how it ended.

The ghost of his guilt, that has the familiar features of Magnus, observes him in the periphery of his field of vision. And maybe Alec is losing his mind.

Isabelle’s fire messages tried to get him back in New York. Occasionally she spoke about Magnus in those short lines.

Magnus, who is alive.

Magnus, who is waiting for him.

Magnus, who still doesn’t hate him.

Magnus, who was bleeding out in that warehouse.

Magnus , who had Alec’s arrows in his chest.

Magnus, who told him that everything was fine.

Magnus, who still doesn’t hate him.

Why doesn’t he hate him?

He ordered Jace to make them disappear, his bow and his arrows. Along with the things that he pulled away from the apartment and that he couldn’t bring along to Idris. He did take something with him, but it isn’t much, just to make that house more welcoming, to remember Magnus and their moments together till the end of his days. Even if Magnus is burnt in his memories and won’t go away.

Nobody has to find him. Only Jace, of his old life, has a vague idea of where he is due to the parabatai bond. And he covered his uncle’s cabin with runes not to be found by anyone else. The only one who perhaps has more updates about his existence is his mother, to whom he writes regularly once every two weeks and who is kept up-to-date in his progress to become a Conclave member.

Bureaucracy. Here’s what his life has been reduced to. Bureaucracy and chopping wood for the fireplace.

Of course, maybe this is the life his parents wanted for him, the bureaucracy part, but it doesn’t give him much satisfaction. And that’s okay, he doesn’t need satisfaction. Fighting for the rights of the Downworlders even without having anything to do with any of them now, it’s all he cares for.

And he will grow old and wither and Magnus will at some point begin to hate him. Because he disappeared from his life, he broke his heart, he almost killed him.

Because he almost killed him.

And when his life will end, Magnus won’t suffer so much.

That evening, they had to talk about something, that evening. But then it happened. Then Alec almost killed Magnus.

The confusion that reigns in his heart, in his head is always there from that fateful night. It drums insistently in his temples, against the skull bone. It rebounds in the silence of that winter. And the cold grips his heart, freezes his hands. The bed is icy and empty.

At night, because it is the worst moment the night, because at that moment he is more alone and vulnerable, he can’t breathe.

That scene, he remembers that scene perfectly. Even if the confusion had the upper hand on his senses at that very moment, he did hit his head very hard and couldn’t stand up. He doesn’t remember when it started, how it started, but certainly the outcomes of that attack will remain engraved in his memory until his last breath.

Usually, before that scene comes right in front of him, he sees Magnus more clearly. Magnus is watching him closely from a corner of Alec’s field of vision, the ghost of his guilt. He looks pale, almost unrecognizable, and looks at him with that cold, harsh air. He moves his lips and it doesn’t take long to understand what he is saying. Because even if Magnus never said those words, they are what Alec wants to hear.  _Get lost._   _Get lost._

And this is what makes him continue his voluntary exile, this is what he is there for, this is why he chose to disappear.

And it starts that way, with that ghost of his guilt and then he feels the tingling of the runes that burn his skin, like that day, he smells the humidity, ichor, blood, sweat that filled the labyrinth of tunnels that brought him there in that abandoned warehouse. And Alec is more than certain that he’s going insane, every day a little bit more, this is what loneliness does.

He still hears Jace’s voice vibrating in his chest, stentorian.  _Don’t fret, don’t freak out._  

And those very words have become a mantra, when the breath breaks in his throat and everything becomes more palpable emptiness, madness, anger.

He remembers to have called him, _Magnus. Certainly, he was the first thing he looked for, immediately, as soon as he had more properties over his body. He repeats that very same act, the head moving to look for something beyond Jace’s shoulders. And he, Jace, who repeats in a low steady voice to stay calm, not to panic continues to talk to him _Simon is calling Catarina._   _Isabelle and Clary are with him.__

__

__

And it’s all confused, like that day, maybe he doesn’t feel all his body again, in its entirety even now, like that day. But he realized immediately, then, that he didn’t need a healer, and Magnus’ magic was enough for him.

Magnus. Who was with them and wasn’t supposed to be there.

He called him again, and maybe he calls him every night with his voice that breaks in the back of his throat and yet he finds a way to reign over his body and go look for him, to clarify his head.

And beyond Jace’s shoulders, every night, like that night, he sees the red soles of Magnus’s shoes, on the edge of those tight-fitting black trousers, his legs abandoned on the ground in a vaguely unnatural position. And then he focuses on Clary and Isabelle moving frantically around him.

The scene is burned in the cerebral volutes, the synapses that make contact and send him back to that dark warehouse. The phantom of his guilt observing him, coldly judging him.

 _Isabelle and Clary are with him_. What a fool, in his chaos he thought they were with Simon. With him, _with Magnus_. 

And this realization hits him every time like a slap in the face, like a fist in the stomach. And every time he is amazed at how delicate Jace was, how he tried not to freak him out, not saying his name.

Here’s what Catarina was needed for. It wasn’t Alec who needed a healer  _but_ ─

And he feels himself moving, even if he is still in bed and looks at the small window that opens the ceiling and makes him look at the stars. He feels himself moving like in that warehouse, he tries to get up and he feels himself being held back by Jace who doesn’t really want to cooperate. And Alec growls, growls every night something, but he doesn’t remember what.

And like that night, his head spins and his knees tremble, and luckily he’s on that lumpy mattress now, because otherwise he would be face down, as in that warehouse, and crawling to Magnus. Who needs him, who maybe isn’t in such a grave conditions and just needs his strength.

And he tries to ignore the slap of nostalgia that reminds him that, that night, the two of them were having dinner together, and they laughed and Magnus made allusions, innuendos and told him events that maybe didn’t even happen just to make him laugh.

To make him laugh.

How much time has passed since that last time, the last time he laughed? Sure Alec isn’t the exact definition of a warm and fuzzy type, the sniggering one, but with Magnus he had learned to loosen his grip. But he lost this habit too, he left it in New York with his old life.

 _You hit your head, you really should_ ─ keeps echoing Jace’s voice vibrating in his chest every night.

But he repeats his name, and perhaps he said something really resembling ”I have to stay with him I have to go to him”, but the words came out all curled up on his tongue, kneaded by that mess in his head.

And then he remembers standing up, towering in his height over his parabatai holding him, over the two young women. And he remembers that he had moved Jace without too many compliments. And maybe he should apologize, he thinks about it every time.

Then his breath breaks at the back of his throat, every night, like that time. Because he sees it, and it’s like the ghost of his guilt, the one that tells him to disappear.

It took a moment to focus on _it_ , and that time lapse remains imprinted in his memories. He doesn’t look like his Magnus at all. Fabulous. Coloured. Cheerful. It’s a circle of lunar-like lividity his face, his lips are stained with blood, the hollows under his eyes are bruises. No. That’s not him. His Magnus.

It’s unreal. It’s something else. And everything was─ _is_ so different that his whole body trembles. He trembles every damn time.

He was so focused on looking at him, trying to remember how he was and, while that huge difference burned in his memory, staring at those shoulders trembling and his mouth rattled with this dull sound looking for air, he didn’t even notice immediately all the blood.

Blood was everywhere.  _Is_ everywhere. On Magnus. Around him. On the wall behind his back. On the ground. His shirt became black, the silk stuck to his chest. If Alec looks at his hands, now, he would still see it, his blood, in the beds under his fingernails, encrusted on his fingers, in the small scars that training and archery cut on his fingertips.

And he didn’t see them right away, or maybe his brain denied the evidence, refused to see them. But there were, there, the two broken black shafts of his arrows, the unmistakable red fletching. The halves with the red fins are on the ground, abandoned in the blood, near the tip of his boots.

And every time the breath disappears in his throat, suffocating, in a painful and absurd apnoea. The realization weighs on his chest. His heart was the first to yield.

Because the rest of the arrows, the other half with the head, the deadly part of his weapons, the tips made specifically to cross the flesh, and cause the greatest damage possible with that adamas cut and curved to make its extraction even more tortuous, painful and lethal, emerged from Magnus’ chest. They flick from the ghost’s chest, the ghost who observes him, with his cadaverous pallor and repeats him to disappear.

 _What did I do?_  he asks his head and maybe every time, every night he repeats it aloud.  _What have I done?_

Nobody has ever answered these questions. And maybe it was good. He didn’t need answers, because _he knows_ , and he knew it at that moment, that he had been the one who shoot those arrows, who aimed at his chest.

It is chaos. Outside and inside of him.

He is sure that the only thing he will hear clearly for the rest of his life is the dull sound coming out of Magnus’ mouth, in that impossible silence that surrounds them at that moment .

 _You alright?_  the voice is hoarse, impossible, tired, unknown.

And every time it’s a dip in the heart, a lump in the throat. And he looks down and sees them, his eyes, glassy, half-open and tired.

 _Did I hurt you?_  he still asks him.

And if he hadn’t seen his mouth, his chapped lips barely discovering his bloody teeth in their movement, he would swear he had dreamed everything.

It’s all imprinted in his mind. Burnt as a mark on livestock.

He didn’t have the courage to answer, and he doesn’t remember anything right after those words. It’s all so confusing. Maybe he said something to him, maybe he made a half-joke with his voice choked in his throat because Magnus needed to weigh his priorities because it wasn’t Alec who was there on the ground bleeding out, suffocating in his own blood.

And he doesn’t sleep.

No, he can’t sleep. Because he was so used to the warmth that Magnus releases, to the scent of his hair, of his skin; to the buzzing sparkle of his magic under the skin, to his warm breath against his neck, that too little time has passed. And he can’t continue to run on stamina rune anymore, now.

And he wouldn’t sleep anyway. Because memories burn his frontal lobe and lurk at the bottom of his occipital lobe. And burn in the cracks, fissures and cerebral ventricles. Everywhere. Every night, every single night he can’t stop looking into the dark pit of his memories, that terrible scene.

Then he waits, he remembers the cold stone floor of the corridor right outside the infirmary. He waits to hear _the_ news, to see Catarina or one of the Silent Brothers re-emerge from that door. Every time, every time he hears those words, the news. Magnus is alive, badly wounded but alive. And this gives him relief for a single moment, a single second, because then everything comes beating him hard: the poison Alec chose to infuse his arrow-heads, as if adamas wasn’t enough to damage the demon they were looking for, is hastily devouring Magnus’ magic, the little magic he has left. Magnus, his body will heal, but maybe it won’t be like before anymore. He will never be like before.

And maybe he took his decision that time. His exile took certain connotations in that instant, when Catarina’s eyes looked at him, peering into his soul.

He spent what was left of the night locked up in Jace’s room, while Jace was strumming at the piano something very similar to a lullaby.

And when Jace finally went to bed, Alec wandered through the corridors of the Institute. Until he got to the infirmary to see him, Magnus, he already knew that that would have been the last time. And before entering he heard Catarina talking to his sister about the demon, the possession and the residual damage that attack would have left on Alec. About Magnus’ magic, which by now was nothing but a fading flame.

And then he entered. He passed close to all those empty sick-beds. And then he saw him. Magnus, pale, livid abandoned in that bed. The veins swollen and bluish below of the almost transparent skin on the back of his frozen and immobile hands. The smell of blood and sweat in the total motionlessness of the room.

He bent to touch his lips one last time in a silent goodbye.

And he will never forget that.

Perhaps that was the moment he chose. He chose to disappear. To break his heart in the hope of being hated.

Alec can still feel the effects of that demon who took possession of him. After all those weeks, he still feels the dust that runs through the tendons and bones. He still feels the incessant roar of that anger, which led him to shoot the love of his life.

The love of his life.

In the end, it’s good that Nephilims love once only.

The heart breaks only once.

Once and for all.

 

 

The snow goes up to his knees. And perhaps it’s because he’s running on stamina runes that the effect of the heat rune disappears more quickly. He is tired, and the sled he’s dragging behind him trudges and slows him down. The runes imprinted in the feather staff are surrounded by snowflakes. It started to snow again while he was halfway, the sun is pale behind the white clouds.

The scene is silent, the smell of the tall evergreen and the humidity of the undergrowth of lichens gives him a strange sense of belonging. As if by now it was connatural in him, his new existence. Everything is automated, now. The staff that opens the way, the daggers that clink to his sides, the wood and its provisions on the sled that slips behind him.

The house is dispersed. Perhaps not even Jace has a clear idea of where Alec is precisely. In addition to being in Idris, where the tracing is more difficult, it’s close to two streams of water, is covered with protection runes and anti-tracking marks.

So he feels like someone is pulling the ground out right from under him when he reaches the edge of the forest, a few feet away from the three wooden steps leading to the entrance of the cabin and sees someone sitting on the last step, the one closest to the door. The hair is a bit opaque and covered with snow. The clothes are perhaps too light for that season and the scarf almost completely covers his face. But when that someone looks up, he recognizes those eyes immediately. He would recognize them everywhere. 

And he missed them so bad.

Maybe it’s just the ghost of his guilt. The ghost who has been living with him for weeks and who judges him silently and moves his lips and invites him to disappear.

But those eyes aren’t daggers, they aren’t gruff, angry, the pupils seem to widen when they land on him.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even move, he is still crouching there with his face half-hidden in the scarf. The hair, black like crow wings, looks like the snowy peaks of the mountains that surround Idris.

And Alec ponders the idea of disappearing. Again. Follow what the voice of that ghost that keeps repeating.  _Get lost._   _Get lost._

And his knees tremble, and perhaps it’s the sleep deprivation, perhaps it’s the tiredness, perhaps it’s the runes that have now completely burned their effect. And maybe it’s all in his head.

Or maybe it’s his heart the first to yield, once again. Treacherous.

There. Sitting in front of his door, there is Magnus. And he has been there for a long time since it has a certain amount of snow on him and there are no footprints around the house and, on the steps, snow is two and a half inches thick.

Alec stays there, looking at him for a brief moment more, and a little part of him is wondering why Magnus still doesn’t hate him.

Then Alec decides to take a step and then another and another. Until he reaches the stairs and climbs them. Trying to ignore that presence, that ghost that usually hovers in that corner of his field of vision.

The steps are heavy, as if trying to cover the noise of his heart that breaks a bit more in his chest.

Because that isn’t a ghost, and Alec can’t help but hear his shattered heart drumming in his chest with a wearying irreverence, as if it were all back to normal, as if that night in that warehouse had never happened. Because it’s a ray of hope, what now howls in the winter sound, is the possibility of going back home, with him. Happy.

Magnus is not even two steps away from him and seems absorbed in the woods, in the branches that move in the wind, in the snow that continues to fall and now is filling the footsteps that Alec has left, the trail of the sled.

Alec tries to behave as usual. Head down. Opens the door and begins to unload the wood at the entrance, in the trunk between the inner glass door, from which he sees that the fireplace is fortunately still lit, and the outer solid wood door that keeps out the cold. He also moves mechanically to store provisions on the trunk, and Magnus still doesn’t look at him, his eyes fixed on the forest that murmurs in the wind. It’s getting dark, it’s always dark early in the mountains.

Maybe Alec looks at him one last time before putting the sled out the door. And maybe he doesn’t even notice that his mouth moves and breathes those words out. ”You should go to New York. Go back home”.

Then there’s silence, still, impossible. A suffocating silence, punctuated by the wind. Maybe he didn’t really say those words, maybe they were stranded in the lump that tightened in his throat.

Magnus sighs, noisily, the air that seems to scratch his palate when it comes out. He shrugs his shoulders and a little snow slides from his coat, from his hair. ”I _am_ home,” he replies, and his tone is calm, without any inflection that could resemble anger, bewilderment, pain.

He is simply stating a fact.

And Alec’s head spins suddenly. It is an impossible dizziness, because he stays still on his feet, and yet here it is. It’s a sense of emptiness, the earth that is missing under his feet. It’s the awareness of having wounded him, of having abandoned him, and yet of not being able to be hated in the damn painful process.

“My house is where you are. I don’t like life in the mountains, but I can get used to it if you are with me. And then it may come in handy… being so isolated, I can make you cry out of pleasure without even needing soundproofing spells...” he adds, without even looking at him, his tone seems amused.

Alec’s breath breaks in his chest. The corners of his eyes are burning. He shakes his head, even though Magnus is facing the forest and can’t see it. ”I can’t give you anything, Magnus,” he says. And it’s true, he will always love him, as long as he lives, but can’t forget what happened. He can’t forget that he almost killed him. That demon took his body and shoot two arrows at him. Two arrows made to annihilate those like him, moreover soaked in a poison able to devour the demonic magic. He can’t give him anything except dangers and pain. Mostly pain. Because, even if they have a long and happy life, one day Alec will disappear, disappear from his life and become dust, and he will be just another painful memory in Magnus’ eternity.

Magnus gets up, holding on to the rickety handrail of the stairs. It seems a painful, tiring gesture that isn’t too fluid. A choked sound comes out of his mouth. He shakes the snow from his shoulders and goes down the steps. He cuts Alec a look, without turning around completely. ”You don’t have to give me anything,” he replies. “I’m not here for this, I’m here to bring you home, with me”.

Alec sighs, fingers trembling on the handle of the glass door. His knees have turned into butter. “You could have died.” he says, and his voice suffocates in the clammy of that winter wind.

“Well, it didn’t happen” Magnus replies, his voice is light and melodious, velvety.

And Alec’s heart makes that leap, that leap that hurts and takes his breath away. “ _I could kill you_ ,” he adds, the lump in his throat that threatens to hold back all his words.

Magnus is silent. Looks back at the woods, his shoulders straight. “You could, you are a warrior, that’s something you have to expect… and I suppose if you are in your right mind, you wouldn’t kill me… but that time it wasn’t you. It was a demon. Not you…”.

“But he got hold of me,” says Alec. “Possible that you don’t understand? I’m _we_ ─ ”.

“Don’t you dare.” he hisses and turns around, maybe he’s looking at him with ferocity, or maybe he’s just tired. Maybe he’s just tired too.

“I’m weak,” Alec breathes out, stubbornly. “I’m weak, do you understand that? If I wasn’t that weak…”.

“No.” he says simply and looks at him, a proud, fond glimpse in his eyes. “You aren’t at all,” he adds. ” I saw you in battle, Alec. And that time we were so close that you wouldn’t have missed my heart, my throat, if you really wanted to kill me... You managed to rule your body possessed by a demon. This isn’t anyone doing, you know? You managed avoid vital parts…”.

 _No, he’s lying. It is impossible_. That little part of him says, the one that always repeats him how weak he is. _You’re weak_. ”But...” he begins to say, but Magnus moves a step and looks at him.

The eyes are his eyes, the cat’s pupils vibrate for a moment on Alec, piercing through him to probe his soul. ”The demon felt threatened, so he took possession of your body, to eliminate two threats in one go. He thought I wouldn’t do anything to harm you... he was wrong, since I threw you against a wall when you hit me...” he continues his eyes become more severe. ”You can’t remember it, but for a moment, for a moment, before you shoot the arrows you have regained control of your body. Your arrows could have hit my heart. But it didn’t happen because you diverted them, just enough not to strike through anything vital”.

Alec snorts. And the words that resonate in his head reach his mouth. ”Lies”.

“No. It really went this way. Don’t let yourself be worn down by guilt. Listen to me,” Magnus whispers, and Alec could swear to see him smiling behind the scarf. “I forgave you the moment it happened, Alexander.”

These are the words he wanted to hear, perhaps, but which he never dared to look for. Magnus no longer has his magic, this Isabelle wrote him in one of her last messages, he lost it with those wounds that Alec caused him, with that poison Alec chose. Yet, here he is, and forgives him, and absolves him and tries to reconnect that relationship that Alec hoped to have completely worn out. And although he doesn’t want to admit it, his heart feels lighter even if only for a short time. That absolution is necessary but not enough to cure his emptiness.

Magnus sighs then, and closes his eyes. ”I’ve never been angry with you. Wounded yes, not so much physically but sentimentally...” he adds in such a low voice that is similar to a whisper. “Going away, without an explanation... it was your vain attempt to make me hate you, right?”.

Alec swallows thickly. And it’s an admission.

A bad idea, after all. But he never thinks straight, when feelings are at stake, when Magnus is involved.

And Magnus looks at him again, his cat-like eyes are soft. ”I waited for you,” he says. ”I waited calmly. I’m good at waiting, immortals have a lot of time, they learn to wait... did you know that I have also collected stamps for a short while? It was very boring… but I’m good with these things.” he murmurs, and from his tone, Alec could guess he is smiling. ”I don’t like waiting, but I can do it... especially if there’s something worth the wait”.

 _They have little time_ , remain suspended in the silence that follows those words. They have little time because Alec is a fixed-term and only manages to do shitty decisions lately. They have little time and he is wasting it in a vain attempt to get hated, to be forgotten. To find the strength not to love Magnus. 

In the end, if he disappears from his life, Magnus will suffer less, right?

But Magnus keeps talking. ”It’s not possible to make me hate you. Neither now, nor ever…”.

Alec lowers his eyes. ”Go away” he blows out very heavily.

And he hears Magnus’s steps sink into the snow. And when he looks up, perhaps a small part of him hoped to see him leave already, in the trees and going up the valley to return to a portal in Alicante. And yet he is there, not even a palm from him, the loose scarf now shows his face in its entirety, it’s shaved, unlike Alec’s, his face is smooth. “Repeat it again,” he says then, breathing on his face. He has a very light and gentle smile on his lips. ”Tell me, looking me in the eye. Give me a good motivation to leave you, because what I see now is just how your sweet heart is broken by your own choices”.

Alec remains motionless in front of him. The constant flashes of that night, in the warehouse, are supplanted by something else now: the memories of their happiness that don’t return bitter in his mouth, or perhaps it’s the future that awaits them, rosy, joyful, colourful that is spreading before his very eyes.

A small part of him tries to convince him that, fuck, maybe it’s all in his head, maybe he has fallen face in the snow and is dying frozen, maybe it’s the absolution that his heart wanted before disappearing altogether.

But Magnus still moves a little towards him, and reaches out to cup his face. The fingers on the short hair behind the nape of the neck, the thumb that draws small volutes on his cheek just at the edge of the slight veil of beard that Alec has let grow without paying any attention to it.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at him, waiting.

“The demon. That demon...” Alec mutters.  _The demon is a danger, it’s still here, it’s still here… sometimes I feel it vibrating in my veins_ , but that can’t reach his tongue.

Magnus curls an eyebrow, his eyes are very serious, he seems to be weighing Alec’s sanity while he probes his soul. And then he snorts a half-laugh. ”I proceeded to kill that demon when he left your body that day. I used so much of that magic that I still have to recover it completely,” he adds. ”Also, with the new security protocols of the demon towers you would never have been able to get to Idris if that demon was still in you”.

Alec takes a deep breath, and he could swear he hears the sound of his eyes widening in the process. No, it can’t be the case. “No. Catarina said...”.

“Holy shit!” Magnus slurs, but his smile seems a little relieved. ”In the end I really do owe Jace fifty bucks!”.

And he looks at Magnus, puzzled to say the least.

And Magnus smiles softly. “Jace said you definitely misunderstood, he even bet on it. You clearly listened to half the conversation and decided it was enough to come to conclusions...” Magnus whispers. ”Regarding both my magic and the demon... Catarina wanted to take a look at you because I throwed a shock wave on you and made you bang your head hard against the wall to let the demon out”.

“Your magic, however...” mutters.

“Are we really talking about a demon, dead by the way, and my magic that’s coming back? Have you gone away for this, really?” his eyebrows frown, and now he seems annoyed, but his fingers, his icy hand, don’t leave his face. Then he smiles again, bending his head a bit. ”Did you come here in Idris to start your new life being a lumberjack because you don’t eavesdrop well enough? Seriously, Alec...” he scoffs, and now he seems amused “You guys have hearing enhancing runes”.

Alec is speechless. Maybe the cold has frozen those three neurons that he hasn’t fried with the continuous activation of stamina runes. And he would really say something but, but maybe he’s just relieved.

“We have time to heal, ” Magnus continues, his tone soft, sweet, his voice is so velvety that it’s like a caress. ”At least I need a little rest... and you don’t look so well yourself... but we have enough time to find ourselves completely, even if we were never really lost,” mumbles his hand is frozen, but there is that very delicate glimpse of his magic that is released from his fingertips and is like a sweet caress.

His magic is there. Magnus is there. And he wants him back. As if nothing had happened.

Alec can’t help reaching out his hand and take it to his mouth to kiss it. ”I got lost” he mumbles.

And Magnus looks around, with a fake shaky expression on his face. ”Really? I had no idea…” he says, winking ”Fortunately _I’m_ good at orienting...”.

Alec pulls a sigh that comes out choked, suffocated by that lump in the throat, by the winter sound, by the falling snow. His eyes are burning. But then he feels his shoulders, his shoulders always strained from that night, finally relax. ”I really fucked up, eh?”

“ _Royally_. But as angelic as you are, Alexander,” he murmurs, shaking his head and reducing the little space that divides them, nothing more than half a step. ”You are also human. It can happen to take shitty decision, to be wrong... it’s normal to be afraid. You came here to atone for a fault that isn’t even yours...” he adds.

“Magnus...” he begins to say.

And he sighs and shrugs. ”I know, I too have made some crappy misjudgement... let’s call them errors of assessment... like for a moment I expected to see you with a flannel shirt with squares…” Magnus continues to say, with this amused air, while moving to get one hand to tighten a grip on Alec’s waist while the other stops at the height of his heart. ”Here, this would have made me re-evaluate our relationship for a moment. Of course, I would have questioned your wardrobe choices”.

And a laugh escapes Alec's lips, a laugh. Damn, it’s been so long since the last. “You always do. Questioning my wardrobe”.

And Magnus laughs back. ”Thinking about it, you’d be totally hot with a flannel shirt, now that you have this little stubble,” he adds with a wink. ”Said that, if I stay a minute more out here, some of my appendages will go gangrenous from the cold and there won’t be a certain part of me that you like so much”.

Alec sucks a breath. ”I guess I’ll have to find a way to warm you up then” he says as he chokes another laugh and is closest to him, and his arm tightens his grip on him.

“Oh, Mr. Lightwood, you cheeky!” Magnus mumbles, falsely surprised.

“I am _so_ ─” he begins to say then, trying to formulate the best excuses that may come to his mind. Although... _I’m sorry I almost killed you, and left without a word, and almost broke your heart_ , may not be the right way to say it.

But Magnus is faster than him.

It’s a moment. It’s a blink of an eye, a gust of wind, that kiss. And Alec, who has never been able to refuse Magnus anything, doesn’t push him away, and on the other hand is a sweet pleasure that he can’t deny himself. And he would lie if he didn’t admit that the kiss was what he yearned for since he saw Magnus there. His heart is finally in the right place, even if everything is battered. He doesn’t allow himself to think about anything, he doesn’t look for understanding the reasons for that kiss, also because he knows how Magnus thinks and acts, that even before hearing his apologies he has already forgiven him, that even before letting him speak, he gives his answer and seals it with a kiss. And he finally feels good enough, his heart finally settled.

When they break apart, Alec keeps his eyes closed for a moment. And he still wants it, that tingling feeling. And his head is still spinning, and maybe he’s just tired or maybe it’s something else. Certainly, it is something else.

Then, recovered that little bit of composure he needs, Alec moves to make his way into the small house.

As he watches Magnus look around, and perhaps a little part of him is judging some of Alec’s more recent life choices, Alec’s heart continues to drum insistently in his ears, and it’s one of the most pleasant sensations that can come to his mind. But the lump in the throat is still there. ”Do you really forgive me?” the question escapes his lips.

Magnus sighs and leaves his hand to approach the fireplace. ”As long as you cook my breakfast for the rest of my life... As I said I already forgave you that day”.

“Magnus...” is about to intervene, to interrupt him.

“We have an outstanding speech, you and I... about my future breakfasts. For all eternity,” he says softly, and throws a little smile halfway between the adorable and the amused, and then he turns and heaves a long sigh and then blows into his hands before rubbing them warm before outstretching his arms before the fire. ”Damn it’s cold. Of course, the Angel in all his wisdom, couldn’t have appeared to Jonathan Shadowhunter in the tropics... everyone would have benefited it”.

And the thing comes to him like a slap in the face. Is immortality something possible for him too? No, no, he’s definitely laying around in the forest, face down in the snow, and that’s all a daydream before he dies. ”What did you say?”.

“You Shadowhunters should move your headquarter to the tropics,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, and perhaps it’s more for the cold than anything else . ”If you enter the Conclave you should suggest it. It’s a great idea, I’m sure that some trusted Warlocks and I could move around Alicante without problems... maybe it’s a bit harder for the lake, but I can work on it,” he continues.

“ _Magnus_ ” Alec calls him.

And Magnus turns to look at him, and smiles. And his smile is so soft and warm that illuminates the whole room; maybe that smile would melt the snow, and make spring come faster. ”Do you want to be with me forever?”.

Alec stops. Loses all controls on his whole body. Remains immobile. Still, perfectly still. There is a handful of steps from Magnus. Impossible. Impossible one can’t be so lucky in one life. It’s impossible. That constant buzz in his head suddenly annihilates, the ghost of his guilt is still there in his field of vision, but he seems to become weaker and weaker, he is fading away.

And perhaps it is because he expected something more dramatic, more explosive, more noisy, yet those words come out so simply from Magnus’ lips, almost seem the verse of a song, an unimaginable melody. And Alec heart starts to pound even more noisily in his chest.

“There are many things we need to sort out,” Magnus adds and smirks a bit before turning back to face the fireplace, humming in contentment when the warmth softly kisses his face. ”But if you want to take this step, there is a way... you can stay with me forever and prepare my breakfast every morning, for the rest of my life, of  _our_ life together”.

Alec can’t answer him, it must be said that he is so damn amazed that he is still able to stand up.

The fire is weak, but it does its job. So much so that after just a minute Magnus takes off his scarf and coat and sits on the ground. He is wearing that purple vest with the purple tie, over that black button-up shirt that looks so damn good on him. Clearly his clothes are too light for Idris in winter. At least he’s wearing those knee-high leather boots, so that his feet and the lower halves of his legs are protected enough from the snow.

Alec still doesn’t answer him. And although it’s said that who keeps silent consents, probably Magnus deserves a proper response, especially after all those weeks of silence. ”Forever is a lot of time,” he finally says, slowly tiptoeing closer to him. ”Did you really find a way?”.

“Well, yes. We have to talk about it more in depth and it’s something extremely complicated, but... yes. You can be with me forever if you want” he’s still looking at the fireplace, but his voice is so soft, and gentle that Alec could melt there right beside him. ”Maybe in a couple of hundred years of practice you’ll be able to finally strike your infamous stew...”.

“Oh, aren’t you a horrible person, Bane,” he murmurs falsely offended and hugs his hips, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Magnus’ neck and inhaling deeply. And it seems that his body was shaped to keep Magnus on like that, in his arms. His scent warms his heart .

“You finally understood!” he replies with the same tone, and covers Alec’s hands his . ”Show me your mountaineering skills and revive this fire, Shadowhunter” he adds rolling the _r_ on his tongue longer than necessary.

Alec leaves his hips puffing a little unamused sigh slightly, looks at him unimpressed and bows to take a couple of logs from the small trunk next to the fireplace. That little cabin is full of trunks filled with chopped wood. With the stele he draws two runes of heat over the barks and then arranges them over the other wood that is being consumed in the flames.

“Oh, you are cheating!” Magnus mocks him, he’s all intent on loosening the intricate laces of his boots, to warm his feet well.

“Oh, well... as you kindly pointed out before, we aren’t really pure-blood angels... especially we aren’t boy scouts. Sometimes it’s allowed to cheat” he replies while recovering a large blanket not particularly soft but sufficiently warm. ”Come here, let me warm you up”.

“I admit that I had a different idea... about you warming me up...” Magnus whispers winking and beckons him to sit next to him, on the ground.

Alec remains there a moment more, watching him. He doesn’t know what his face his showing, if a certain satisfaction or a little confusion, but he certainly can’t have it repeated twice, he sits near Magnus and surrounds their shoulders with the blanket.

“We should work on our communication, Alexander” Magnus says, then . ”And on your stew. Especially on the stew if I don’t want to be in the infirmary for the wrong reasons...” he adds and looks at him with this grin with narrow lips, eyebrows curled in a soft amused expression.

Alec swallows noisily. ”I did not want to abandon you, Mags...”.

“I know. You just wanted to make me hate you.” he replies, snorting and getting closer to rest his head on Alec’s shoulder, he passes an arm behind his back, to hold him in a light embrace. ”At first I was angry with Jace and Isabelle. Then with you, but just a little bit...” he adds. ”But then I realized it was all a very big misunderstanding... so astute, yet...”.

“So idiot” Alec snorts. ”Your magic?”.

“It’s coming back. I was emotionally knocked down for a while... the effect of that poison passed within a week... I’m the son of a Greater Demon, poison affects me but not as lethal as it is” he replies. ”But the magic is connected to my feelings so...”.

A raised sigh escapes from Alec’s parted lips. And he tries to ignore the painful dizziness of having slowed his recovery with this voluntary exile. ”How did you find me?”.

Magnus smiles. ”I had to ask a lot of favours to come here. First, I made Jace track you, but not only are you close to the water, but you have activated all possible runes, both on the house and on you... and warlock tracking didn’t work… so it was clear you were in Idris, where it is more difficult to track even through...” he hums. “So I contacted your mother who gave me the coordinates of this place... then I asked Isabelle to write to the Consul for permission to appear here... so I asked Clary to open a portal and that redirected me to Alicante... so I walked here, and then it started to snow...” he sighs and then looks at him ”They told me to come and pick you up... but your sister doesn’t want to wait you and so… they will be here tomorrow...”.

Alec swallows hard.

And Magnus continues. “We could still take a few days off and see if we can get the demon tower alarms sound just shouting of pleasure”.

Alec snorts a soft chuckle and then he falls silent, but not because he wants to shut up, but because he is really speechless. And he would like to find them, his words, the right words, ask questions, but he just look at Magnus.

“They aren’t angry with you. They know you and more importantly they love you. That’s why they want to come here to see you...” he adds, reading exactly what Alec wanted to ask with his eyes. ”You had a moment of weakness. As you said, you are lost. And then... this place can become something good, for you, for your family... it shouldn’t only be tied to your uncle’s memories”.

He opens his mouth, but only sighs before saying simply “I got lost”.

“It’s a good thing that you’re my _true north_ , no rune intended” he replies winking again. ”I would find you anywhere, with or without magic, runes or whatever”.

Alec can feel a very light smile tugging the corner of his lips. ”What a sap”.

Magnus snorts, snuggling closer to Alec, his warm breath on his neck. ”You’ll have to bring all your stuff back home. And please retrieve your bow. It’s covered with my most effective protective seals, it’s a waste to let it mould into the Institute armoury”.

Alec huffs a long, lungful sigh. “I’m sorry”.

“I told you, you have to learn to communicate, Alexander. I’m always here, to listen to you...” Magnus repeats, sighing once more squarely than before and gets even closer to him if possible. ”And now lend me your knees that I want to sleep a little. You made my circadian cycle terribly subject to your presence”.

“I have the same problem,” murmurs Alec. “I can’t sleep”.

“Without me or in general?” Magnus babbles, rubbing his lips on the soft skin under Alec’s ear.

Alec gulps loudly, trying to ignore the urge to move his hands over Magnus, and maybe taking his clothes off and doing _things_. “Both”.

“Really?” he says a furrowed brow and lips pursed tight in a unamused expression. “I noticed, you know… You lost at least six pounds, and let’s say it’s due to your shitty cooking and not because your mood was terrible… and you’re as pale as a rag...” Magnus replies, snorting at him. “Always beautiful, don’t misunderstand me, but really tattered...”.

“Above. There’s a bed,” says Alec. ”It’s not a big, comfy mattress, but it does its duty...” he adds. ”Let’s go and recharge the batteries”.

“Excellent” he nods, moving slightly and letting Alec get up first. ”But I’ll have to steal one of your flannel shirts, I didn’t bring anything. And I can’t make anything appear... or I’ll find myself in the Gard…”.

“Magnus. I. Do. Not. Have. Flannel. Shirts.” he spells, stretching out his hand to help him up.

Magnus sulks a little and shakes his head as he pulls up. ”These modern mountaineers”.

“I live in the mountains, I’m not a mountaineer” Alec replies stubbornly.

“Technically, that’s the exact definition of a mountaineer...” deadpans Magnus.

Alec snorts and precedes him on the ladder, still holding his hand. Maybe tonight he’ll be able to sleep without remembering that warehouse, that blood.

He sits on the mattress and pulls Magnus on him again. The kiss is deeper this time, as he tightens the grip on his hips. Slippery and soft, warm and fuzzy. His head spins a bit again, but it’s a pleasant feeling.

Magnus chuckles as soon as he gets away from him, his fingers on Alec’s lips, dreamy eyes that look at him. “I found you,” he then says very softly.

“Thank you” and those words come out like a sigh. ”Thanks for everything”.

Magnus smiles, this smile as dreamy and lost as his eyes. ”Don’t talk nonsense,” he replies. “It affects my sanity... I need you in my life,” he adds cutting him a cocky smirk. ”Let’s sleep for a bit, what do you say?” he murmurs. “Then, I’ll help you prepare dinner, so we avoid setting fire to the whole forest ... ”.

Alec snorts a laugh. ”I haven’t set fire to anything until now”.

“ _For now,_ ” murmurs Magnus playfully, as if to correct him.

This is what he wanted, this is what his heart needed.

Magnus breaks away from him. The small window that opens the ceiling, with the glass all frozen and covered in the low half of snow, brings in the golden light of the sunset, which is fading beyond the mountains. Magnus’ skin seems to sparkle with a unique hue.

Alec can’t move his gaze, he can’t keep his eyes on him. There are still those signs on his chest of that furious encounter with death. Those scars make him nauseous.

Magnus cuts him a smile, bowing his head to the side. “There’s only one pillow, and the mattress is a bit small. If you wanted to snuggle on me so much you should have said that…” he mumbles “Not that I’m complaining”.

Alec pulls a long sigh.

“The signs will disappear, Alexander. As soon as my magic returns,” he smiles and moves the blanket and the thick sheet to get under the covers. “Come on, come and warm me up, with your hot gargantuan feet, Shadowhunter”.

Alec pulls himself up, unbuttons his shirt and pulls off his thermal shirt, takes off his pants and tiptoes to the bed. Trying hard to ignore the fact that those scars are still there.

“Do you think this mezzanine supports the both of us?” Magnus asks while making room for Alec on the pillow. “I’m just curious… I mean, we need to know if we can do something like… some things a bit more _bustling_...”.

Alec laughs, and gets closer to him, taking almost all the space available on the pillow and crushing Magnus against his chest. “We’ll have to put it to the test, sooner or later,” he says and tries to restrain his fingers, which instead reach those marks on Magnus’ chest.

“I think they make me look pretty tough...” he murmurs, taking Alec’s hand and guiding it to his lips, to kiss his fingertips.

“But…” Alec tries to say.

“Don’t worry, they’ll fade” he murmurs the quiet tone, while he moves his hand and begins to let his fingers run in his hair. “Let’s sleep a bit”.

Something drums in Alec’s heart and makes him move a tad closer to Magnus. “I love you” he says, and only when he says it he notices how broken his voice is.

Magnus grins. And kisses him deep, so desperately that his whole body curves into Alec, his hands on Alec’s back drawing gentile circles against the scars that are his runes.

Alec breaks the kiss with a gasp, arching his body to make room for more.

Magnus kisses him again, softly. One small kiss and pulls away just to whisper against Alec’s lips “I love you” and then throws his arms around him, holding him closer, reducing the already insignificant space between their bodies.

Alec breaks away to look at him.

“You know…” Magnus says, his voice hoarse and husky it’s like a whisper. “I think I need more warmth”.

Maybe they can test the mezzanine now.

 

 

 

Perhaps Alec was the first to fall asleep. Exhausted by all that bustling activities.

Certainly, he was the first to wake up, now that a dim light, looks at them from the window that opens the ceiling above the bed. The light that filters through the curled texture of the ice that has formed during the night draws on the blanket and on their skins incomprehensible yet fascinating doodles.

He slept through the night, and although he is far from being completely rested, the inner voice that constantly admonished him now seems a distant memory. It will take a long time to get through this whole thing, this whole mess, but there is something that will help him. In the bed, with him.

He looks at Magnus, who is still snoring, or Alec could say purring, some small noisy puffs escape from his parted lips, on his chest the signs are rapidly fading.

It’s morning. And the magic is back.

Maybe he wants to wake him up, maybe he wants to give him the good news in person, maybe he wants to talk to him again and again. Of the infinity of time, of possibilities that now they have before them. Perhaps he wants to explain to him the reasons for his exile. And maybe, yes, they have to talk, work more on their communication.

And he must certainly tell him that Magnus is his home, is his true north, no rune intended. And that something like that will never happen again, never again. That he will not go anywhere, ever again.

But he limits himself to blowing a kiss in his hair and to settle under the covers, tightening his grip on him. 

Magnus snorts and mumbles something as he moves better, tugging against him. “Remember that your family will come here to see you today... we can’t make ourselves seen engaged in certain businesses”.

And Alec would like to protest, but he laughs.

The winter that was consuming him with its dark and empty sounds disappeared, annihilated in that embrace.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, every feedback, comment, kudo, bookmark is more than accepted.  
> Please, if you noted some mistakes, errors or whatever that sounds creepy and makes your skin crawl, please _please_ , let me know I want to improve.  
> I really hope you liked it.  
> Thank you again...
> 
>  **AND!** If you want to have a better look of the little sketch I did for this work I may post it [here](https://lamalefix.tumblr.com/) tomorrow or so.


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